Having finished his tea, Tetch would have reached for a pot as well, pouring himself yet another. Careful in not spilling a drop as he settled back, slender legs crossed neatly at the ankle to knee like a gentleman should, cup perched delicately between a few slender fingers. A simple nod, and he would continue, vivid raven haired head bobbing.
”—Certainly, better safe than sorry…” Tetch had no doubt the Lady wouldn’t have an issue protecting herself; she seemed capable enough to give any assailant a run for their money. Though he couldn't quite tell why; just that she could. Overall he seemed calm, eyes glimmering but hidden, smouldering glass beneath the shadowy brim of his Top Hat. Despite her subdued threat, Tetch smiled, raising his cup in her honour, and finally spoke.
”—My experimentation is reserved for… let us say, weaker souls. T’would be a shame to waste the rare gifted minds I happen upon. Besides…” he continued, finally looking up, slate blue grey eyes meeting her near-crimson, ”—Some… have to be taught how to behave” Flattered she thought him intelligent, he decided to go on. Unusual, the scent of sanguine in the air- where had it come from? Certainly not anything he made... Or had it?..
”—As of myself, there's little to tell; I’m almost assured there is a Wonderland is real, and that I am Hatter. Silly perhaps… even when I first read Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, I knew everything… I had a loathing for certain characters, even before I read about them… as if I was always there. If I'd been there before Alice ever ‘visited’, as if they were my documented memories I was reading about. Despite that…” he pronounced the last part a bit louder, ”—I am of course a Haberdasher, an inventor, more recently criminal and cut-throat…” Not seeming to be ashamed in admitting his ‘darker’ side to the woman.
”—Once loved a woman named Alice; go figure… When she left, the hurt ripped me wide open, pain unimaginable… I never thought I could feel anything again, then recently… I met another Alice; things had gotten better, yet part of me is simply unsure of it all… I’m afraid my addictions are going to drive her away… still- c'est la vie…” he uttered with a shrug. There was more, but did he really need to talk about the lies and the mischief? About his science? Hmm… perhaps not… those things were all dull, weren’t they?
Idle, without thinking, Vendetta sketched in a spare leather-bound book- when did she pull out that dark lacquered box?- as he spoke. She nodded in acknowledgement at his reassurance. Book in hand, she settled in, and listened to his tale. When he was finished, she finally spoke once more.
"Not at all; once in a rare while, we find something that- when we see it... Someone knew us, recorded moments in our lives. All great tales are like this. Besides... History rarely immortalizes the well-behaved, despite the puritan attitude." Here, she smirked, having sipped from the tea- what once was red now held silver shimmer- though the metallic scent redoubled if anything.
"Based on memories immortalized in ink- yes I've read the tale, who hasn't- you're drawn to Alice. Nothing wrong with that; yet if she leaves, frightened by the madness... perhaps it will hurt, but perhaps it will be best. Very few can stand to it. Let alone embrace it..." Vendetta held a look of.. sadness? wistfulness? bitterness? She shook her head. "Cést la vie, indeed... Though it's better to have companionship."
Bitterness and wistful stares returned to the cracked veneer- staring to the relentless world outside, attempting to disguise it. Like many, Vendetta held unresolved pain. Nothing he could judge her for, could he? Something deep weighed on her mind... A cursory glance to her sketchbook revealed a strange image: the pair of them, locked in the earlier aethereal dance in the midnight sky... eyes locked, lips nearly touching... Lust, longing... twisted love in glances unbroken, immortalized in ink. Sad smile painted her crimson lips.
Despite everything, the madman inside found himself forced to retreat. Jervis finally set his cup aside on the saucer and relaxed in his seat, sky-pale glance glittering from beneath the brim of his Top Hat ”—Are you alright dearie? You seem… sad?” he was merely surmising, but also good at reading people…whether they liked it or not, he deemed it a hobby. Something about her silent suffering drew the soft-spoken side back to the surface, the madman melting away for the moment.
Reflexively, Vendetta shook her head mock chiding for his very real concern. A weak smile graced her- yet hit didn't reach those mesmerizing eyes of hers. "I'm fine, my dear Jervis- why wouldn't I be?" She was lying and they both knew it. Whatever drifted in, brought to light some kind of pain, or sadness. Her smile, merely lacquer for his benefit. Just what had entered her mind, to make someone normally of porcelain crack like that?
Her gaze dropped once more to her sketchbook, and she blushed. "Right, I... I've a terrible mind, apologies..." She
turned the page, trying to hide the image, and opened her mouth- then
closed both her mouth and the book. Something about Jervis, his madness
yet sincerity... it pierced her ice. "...I'm sorry, I... I really don't-" Vendetta
stopped, tears silently spilling down her face. Just as silent, she
reached for a tissue in her pocket, and some time passed before she
could speak once more.
She tried to convince him, but somehow he wasn’t sure she was being honest, was she really okay? Still she continued, confessed she had a terrible mind, he couldn’t help but laugh a bit ”—A terrible mind? I doubt it… 'tis I who have the wicked mind my dear…” he confessed, madman breaking free for but one moment ”—You saw living proof of that in here earlier, that is but a taste of what I offer…” There was no bragging in his words. Simple sincerity to make her feel a little less naughty, perhaps. Still even with his humour, she faltered some, the poor dear.
Both the gentleman, and the madman- witnessing Vendetta's sudden fragility- fought to be dominant. Jervis held on, regaining control- but barely, with great difficulty. "Forgive me... I'm not usually this emotional. Listening to your tale, I... Recalled things, I've spent time trying to forget. Sometimes things are... closer to the surface, than we wish them to be."
”-You needn’t worry about a thing, but if you feel the need to speak about your problems… I am willing to listen,” he confessed. Stranger and stranger still, things he found himself compelled to say and do well by her. Vendetta, the strange shifting Mistress of the Arcane and enigmatic soul who chanced upon his shop tonight.
She realized that the skies were starting to lighten, and she finished her tea. "I think I need some rest... Where is this room you spoke of?..."
Asking for her room, he’d glance outside- already dawn, cascading into sunrise? Still, with a nod smiling distantly, quick but earnest, ”—Right this way,” he offered, sliding out from his seat and moving beyond the back of the shop where they sat, up to a roped off flight of stairs, reading ’Private’ perhaps to ward off any nosy customers assuming his shop had a second story.
Leading her up, Cheshire lifting her head to watch, she’d lower it again once they disappeared- assuming the Hatter would be back down as usual. ”—The bathroom is here if you need it” he uttered, flipping on the light as if to prove it really was there, before flipping it off and moving to the next room on the right, ”—This is the guest room, yours…” he said, entering- lights on, it was nice enough, simple… with everything a person could need; a desk, wardrobe space, a bed, nightstands, a trunk. ”—Should you need anything Vendetta, I’ll be right downstairs…” he’d eventually retire, but not yet… there was much to attend to… ”—Anything else I can get for you?"
Vendetta shook her head. She was silent, an attentive and very polite guest. "Thank you kindly, for everything... I'll return at sundown, if that's alright." Sundown? A night-time soul then. She curtsied, her eyes not lifting from the floor- shame, since they were rather expressive.. Especially the way they changed colour... She closed the door. The night ceased to be, and with it, much for both to think upon.
Chapter VIII- Revelations and Storytimes